


The Drugs We Crave

by myaami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Study, Fix-It, Goro POV, M/M, No Spoilers for P5R, Repressed Feelings, Second person POV, Spoilers for Vanilla P5, acceptance of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22474342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaami/pseuds/myaami
Summary: He catches your eye because he’s sharp and quiet, but unlike his teammates, he doesn’t desire the wings of rebellion. Still, the way he tears through the Metaverse, he obviously wants something for himself. Whatever it is, he doesn’t find it here.A smile creeps across your lips, and you’re craving again. You realize you aren’t bored anymore.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95
Collections: Quality Persona Fics





	The Drugs We Crave

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for Persona 5 Royal, but spoilers for Persona 5 vanilla through the seventh palace.

— I —

It turns out you were right to dread today. Over the last few hours, you’ve pretended to ignore blatant stares, power-walked away from desperate flirtations, and worked through lunch hidden away in an empty classroom. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do to protect your locker.

Chocolate pours out when you open it. Not a liquid, thankfully, but a flood nonetheless. Milk chocolate, from your average admirers. Dark, from the ones who watched your interview in which you claimed to like it. You don’t, but at least they tried. Orange, for those trying to be bold and catch your attention. Unfortunately for them, there are at least ten chocolatey spheres so they’re not that original afterall.

Surprise is easy to fake: take one step back with a hand on your chest and embarrassment and flattery spread across your face as if you weren’t expecting this to happen. That you’re honored by the dozens of admirers who wasted their money on you. You chuckle behind your glove and close your eyes to pretend that you’re not seething inside.

When you’ve made an acceptable show of gratitude, you shove everything into your briefcase. Soon enough, you’ll be able to put Valentine’s day out of your mind and the gifts directly into the trash.

— II —

When you hit it big as a detective, the gifts you received were glorious. It was a natural high that took a hold of your entire body and coursed through your veins until you couldn’t see straight. You never knew how much you needed it until you had a taste.

Acknowledgement is the name of the drug you crave.

Over time, the gifts became more of the same from people who wanted to worm their way into your life. Wanted to get your attention by praising the ‘you’ they see smiling on TV.

(You wish someone would try to reach the real ‘you’ behind your pristine facade.)

The truth is, you’re bored. School is easy, requiring minimal effort on assignments and exams. And the days you don’t feel like studying? Well. You know how to cheat. Work, you have wrapped around your finger. You instigate mental shutdowns and then you solve the case. Line them up and knock them down; praise be to the great detective prince. The Metaverse is the only place you feel alive, yet no one is there to watch you. There’s a disappointment in that.

It’s not until May that you put two and two together. The so-called Phantom Thieves come tromping through Mementos in their flashy outfits and calling each other cute codenames, but they’re sloppy and uncoordinated. Bumbling. Obnoxious. However, you overhear enough of their conversation to know that they’ve personally taken down Kamoshida and Maderame due to a sense of righteousness born from their helplessness. They unleash chaos and utterly damn the consequences.

The name of their drug is rebellion.

Yet there is one amongst their number who is not like the rest. He catches your eye because he’s sharp and quiet, and while his teammates are indeed powerful, his strength might be on par with yours, someday. The others flock to him with wide and glazed eyes, as if just being in his vicinity will satisfy their hunger.

This one doesn’t desire the same wings of rebellion. Outwardly, he exhibits indifference and resignation. He seems to understand that society is always going to name scapegoats, so he doesn’t seek to change the system. Still, the way he tears through the Metaverse, he obviously wants something for himself. Whatever it is, he doesn’t find it here, but you’re curious.

A smile creeps across your lips, and you’re craving again. You realize you aren’t bored anymore.

— III —

You pride yourself at first impressions. Not necessarily in making the impression yourself—you already know you’re a pro at that—but in intimidating and sizing people up. All it takes is a confident smile and a cocky brow, and they’ll either bend the knee or wonder what you have that they don’t. They’ll either become addicted to you, or bitter because they will never be like you. No matter. You already own their thoughts because you can read them as if they were a simple child’s book.

(You wish someone would write a goddamn novel already.)

Daily life suddenly becomes more interesting, too. During an interview in front of a live audience, a student with cold and careful eyes appears to be immune to your gravitational pull. He doesn’t want to orbit or be repulsed; he wants to push back.

You let him, just a little bit, and corner him after the interview, exchanging phone numbers and testing him again to make sure you didn’t mistake your initial assessment.

“I’m surprised a group of vigilantes warrants more trust than the police,” you observe with mock curiosity. “They _are_ going to track down the Phantom Thieves sooner or later, you know.”

“Unlikely. But then again, I don’t put much faith in the police, anyway.” He pauses, and then has the gall to act coy. “Oh, sorry. I forgot you’re a part-time detective, aren’t you?”

“No offense taken!” you pleasantly scream. “It’s not everyday I meet someone who will speak their mind around me. It’s unexpected, for someone like you.”

He raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips. “Maybe I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

You match his expression, satisfied knowing you were right. You never make mistakes.

— IV —

Although you surround yourself with people, none of them are your friends. The word itself, _friends_ … there’s never been a single person to whom you’ve wanted to apply that label. People have said it of you, casually slipping it into conversation, and it’s made your skin crawl. There are too many assumptions packed into the word. Too much baggage to be saddled with. People change and eventually grow apart, so it’s pointless to try and cling to the past or foster the growth of what is sure to be a one-sided and imaginary relationship.

(You wish someone would explain that to the person who hasn’t stopped texting you since you exchanged numbers.)

Despite your clipped and succinct messages, you can’t help but continue the dance. It’s a farce, mostly. The appearance of camaraderie. You’re curious, afterall.

However, Akira fully embraces it. He invites you to the movies, and to dinner with his loud and colorful friends. Out to a café for desserts, just the two of you. It gets harder to figure out if you should use your fake laugh or release the one that bubbles unbidden from your lips when Akira gets a bit of whipped cream on the tip of his nose and the edge of his mouth. You settle on a quiet chuckle, and remove your glove to wipe it off. He smiles at you in a way you’ve never seen before. Not on him, nor on anyone else when they’ve looked at you in the past. You adjust your tie, suddenly too hot. After you’ve finished eating, Akira offers his hand and laces his fingers through yours as you walk through the park.

There’s a purpose in all of this. You have evidence. Photos of their other-worldly activities. It’s a risk, but you decide to reveal yourself to them. You’re _friends_ , aren’t you? You bully your way into their Metaverse excursions, but Akira doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, he welcomes you whole-heartedly. Says he’s happy you were honest. You can see it in his eyes: he’s proud of you.

Honesty has nothing to do with it. You _had_ to expose yourself. It’s all part of the plan, isn’t it? To gain their trust, you had to do all sorts of things, like hang out with everyone after school, and take Akira out on dates, and kiss him in the attic of Leblanc.

There’s a part of you that wants to see the world through Akira’s eyes. Somehow, he sees something amazing when he looks at you. If you could see yourself in the same light, you wonder what would change.

You crush the desire under your heel.

— V —

Rivalry is a natural part of humanity. It’s what makes survival of the fittest a valid way to introspect society. The rich and flamboyant rise to the top. The rest fall by the wayside. Simple as that.

Technology disrupted things a bit. You don’t have to be up close to take someone out. Don’t have to see the whites of their eyes or feel their life slip away under your hands. The physical distance between you and your target makes it easier to pull the trigger.

At least, that’s what you thought. When you are finally assigned the kill order, you have to practice. A lot. You can’t mess this up when the end is finally within reach. From the moment you were born, Shido’s influence and his chains wrapped around your humanity and your destiny, but one more Palace, one more kill, and you’ll dive into Shido’s twisted ship and put an end to it all.

You try closing your eyes, but even then, Akira’s thoughtful gaze and flash of a smile infiltrate your mind. When the execution finally comes, you’re not sure you’ll be ready.

(You wish someone hadn’t made you desire something more for yourself.)

Robin Hood’s mask and it’s superficial depiction of justice feel heavier every time you rip it off in the Casino. Joker is sharp. He can sense your distraction. He offers to swap you out in favor of a more focused fighter, but you vehemently decline. This isn’t the time for weakness. You’re almost there and you cannot falter. Soon, you’ll part ways with Joker, and kill Akira.

When you defeat Sae’s Shadow and Joker takes her treasure, you call out for a private word.

“I wish there was another way, Joker. I… I don’t want you to get hurt. Don’t go alone.”

Joker’s reaches for you and you grasp his hand like a lifeline.

“I trust you, Crow. Please trust in me, too.”

You hold tight for as long as you can. Joker is the one to pull away and continue the mission.

— VI —

If acknowledgement is your drug, redemption is Akira’s.

(You wish Akira would explain why he chose you.)

You can’t help but laugh when you spot him _alive_ in the boiler room on Shido’s ship. After you parted ways in the Casino, Akira was arrested and thrown in a basement cell of the police station. You didn’t waste any time. The hit was quick and Akira didn’t say a word; just watched as your hands shook when you aimed the gun. You met his eyes when you shot him. Every moment since then has been a waking nightmare coloring your life dark and bloody and hopeless, but Akira is smart. He saw through your ruse and had one of his own ready.

If he wasn’t expecting to see you here, he hides it well. There’s a show of sentiment from their side, but you can’t process it. Teammates? Friends? Those words are not applicable to you, no matter how much it makes your pulse race and your heart soar.

Your mask changes to unleash your hidden power, and you push yourself to the edge—you already know how this will end—but it’s not enough. Akira and his monastic devotion to righteousness bring you to your knees. You’re broken, full of rage, but still he tries to convince you to let go. To join forces without the guise this time, and take Shido down, all members of the Phantom Thieves, together. Akira weaves a vision of a future you could have, a future that even has room for each other. You can’t do much besides shake your head in hysterical delirium. Akira knows your past. Heard you confess, and knows you must hate him enough to shoot him. And yet, he proposes a life like this?

For one beautiful moment, you allow yourself to consider it.

The decision is quickly taken away when a Shadow of your worst impulses appears and trains a gun on him. There’s no choice anymore. Maybe there never was. The dream Akira painted is not meant for you, however in death, you can at least gift him the fulfillment of his craving. Perhaps you can taste yours one last time, too.

You shoot the switch to drop the bulkhead, and Akira’s screams sate your appetite.

It’s not as sweet as you expected it would be.

— VII —

The world is falling apart and no one is here to see you off.

It’s what you deserve. You rejected gifts and affection. You didn’t get to know anyone because you thought you were better than them. They were uninteresting, and you were the ineffable and infallible king.

There was only ever one exception.

(You wish…. You wish… You wish…)

Something touches your foot. A hand pulls on yours. Pressure is applied to a painful spot on your shoulder. _People_ , you realize, are touching you. The sensations tether your consciousness to a tangible reality and pull you out of the bleak darkness. Things become a whole lot brighter when the helm over your face is removed and a cool breeze ruffles your matted hair. You lay still for a moment, not yet ready to see what awaits you in this world.

A pair of blue eyes greet you when you finally bring yourself to look, and a voice is screeching in your face. “He’s awake! Akira, come quick!”

The weight on your chest shifts as the tiny cat jumps off, and in its place, someone wraps an arm around your shoulders to help you sit up. Akira’s fingers are wet as they move back and forth over your cheek—actually, it’s that Akira is trying to wipe away the tears you shed, as your shoulders heave and you sob uncontrollably into his hand.

It wasn’t the acknowledgement of the public that you were craving all your life. You never cared about the faceless masses. You’re selfish. There is only a small bubble in which you ever wanted to exist. A small place in this world carved out for you and the one person who understands you. A place where you’re free of chains and expectations. Free to desire. Free to wish.

You wonder aloud what that life would be like.

Akira presses his lips against yours. “I don’t know what it’s like to be selfish like that, Goro. But, I think you and I are ready to find out.”

You grab his face and breathe in his radical idea of love, embracing a new kind of high that only Akira can give you. It’s amazing. It’s the most wonderful and satisfying thing you have ever tasted.


End file.
